


i want you to want me (i need you to need me)

by symphony7inAmajor



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, basically feelings then they smash, kind of, the end!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 10:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18776617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphony7inAmajor/pseuds/symphony7inAmajor
Summary: Mark isn’t even the first one to know about the hickey, which is kind of embarrassing considering it’s on his shoulder.





	i want you to want me (i need you to need me)

**Author's Note:**

> you thought i was done with the prompts. haha! no.
> 
> 19\. Blurting out a confession of love  
> 39\. Having a bad day and the other noticing  
> from [this](https://bucky-plums-barnes.tumblr.com/post/184264433918/50-clich%C3%A9-tropes-and-prompts-its-my-first-prompt) list!
> 
> finished this one extra fast because i can always write porny stuff swiftly. do not know why.
> 
> title from "i want you to want me" by cheap trick

Mark isn’t even the first one to know about the hickey, which is kind of embarrassing considering it’s on _his_ shoulder.

At any rate, it isn’t until he takes his shirt off in the locker room before skate that he finds out about it. Someone wolf-whistles behind him, a couple other guys laughing.

“Busy night, Scheif?” Mark turns around to scowl at Adam, who’s grinning at him. His reply is interrupted when Troubs pokes at his shoulder. He winces.

“Nice,” Troubs says. Mark slaps his hand away.

“What are you talking about?” Mark stares down his teammates, waiting for an explanation.

“Dude,” Adam says, raising an eyebrow, “you’ve got a massive hickey on your back and you didn’t _notice?”_ Mark blushes, then flushes even redder at the embarrassment of blushing.

“I was kind of busy at the time,” he mutters, staring at the floor. A noise comes from the doorway, and he looks up to see Blake staring at him with an unreadable expression. The room feels tense for a moment, everyone looking from Mark to Blake. Blake clears his throat. 

The tension breaks when Maurice marches into the room.

“What’re you all doing standing around?” he demands. “Let’s go, come on!” Mark turns away to grab his under-armour out of his stall, and when he turns back, Blake is at his own stall with his back to him, stripping out of his clothes almost aggressively. Mark considers going to him.

Instead, he puts on his skates and heads out onto the ice.

Practice is weird. Blake doesn’t _ignore_ him, exactly, but he’s not exactly making an effort to talk to Mark outside of anything hockey related.

Mark skates up beside Troubs while the second powerplay unit runs some drills.

“Did I do something to Wheels?” he asks. Troubs blinks at him slowly.

“Are you serious?” he replies, which-- 

“Don’t answer my question with a question, you _jerk.”_ Mark shoves him, but Troubs is laughing. Hiding his grin, Mark looks away and--right at Blake, who’s frowning at Troubs.

“Maybe he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, I don’t know,” Troubs says. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“He’s not talking to me.” Mark winces at how whiny he sounds. Troubs shrugs.

“Aren’t you supposed to be all, like, attached at the hip and shit? The captain and his alternate?” He taps Mark’s chest where the “A” is on his game jerseys, distracting him from the way Mark can feel himself blushing over being referred to as _Blake’s._  

“Yeah, well, we’re not _married,”_ Mark says, and regrets it immediately, cursing the delighted expression on Jacob’s face. He knows Mark too well. “Shut up.” Mark jabs him with his stick. “You can’t say _anything,_ not to anyone, okay?” Troubs looks taken aback.

“I wouldn’t,” he says. He lowers his voice. “But I think half the guys know already.” He shrugs when Mark looks at him in shock. “You’re not as subtle as you think, Scheifs. And most of us have seen the kind of guys you hook up with.” He squeezes Mark’s shoulder, a sympathetic expression on his face, then skates off to do his drills.

Mark stares after him, feeling lost. He can feel his gear chafe against the hickey every time he moves, a constant reminder. He absently reaches back to scratch it, catching Blake’s eye again. Blake looks at him, an unfamiliar expression on his face until he notices Mark watching him and his eyes go wide, barely noticeable, before he skates away.

Blake stays on the ice after everyone else leaves, shooting pucks at the empty net. Mark’s dressed again, watching him from the tunnel. He studies the way Blake angles his body when he shoots, the power he puts behind every shot, the way his skates cut into the ice. He swallows against the sudden dryness in his mouth.

When he runs out of pucks, Blake skates to the net to collect them so he can start again. As he skates back, he pauses. Mark can see his shoulders shift when he sighs.

“You can come out,” Blake says. He doesn’t have to raise his voice, the silence of the rink making it easy to hear. Mark steps out of the shadows, embarrassed that he got caught. “What are you doing here, Mark?” He finally looks over, and he looks so _tired._  

“I’m worried about you,” Mark says in a small voice. “You haven’t been talking to me, I just want to know what’s wrong.” Blake shakes his head, sighing. He skates to the tunnel and stops just in front of Mark. Mark has to tilt his head back to meet his eyes like this, feeling small with Blake still in his skates and gear.

“Don’t worry about me,” Blake says, then brushes past Mark to get to the locker room. The rest of the guys are long gone, so Mark struggles to find something to look at that isn’t Blake taking his clothes off.

He ends up sitting back in his stall, messing around on his phone while Blake goes to shower. His phone buzzes with a text from Copper.

_u going to be coming home tonight ? ;)_

Mark leans back far enough in the stall so he can bang his head against the wall. Unfortunately, this means he’s in a perfect position to watch Blake come out of the showers, only wearing a towel around his waist. His hair is still dripping wet, sending rivulets of water down his chest.

Mark dies a little inside.

“Mark,” Blake says. Mark flinches at the use of his first name, sitting upright in his stall. This could be important. “What are you waiting for?”

“I—“ Mark hesitates. “I don’t know,” he finally admits, looking down at his hands. Blake doesn’t answer, but Mark can hear the sounds of him getting dressed, doesn’t dare look up. Finally, Blake breaks the silence.

“Don’t you think it’s dangerous?” he asks, surprising Mark. “Hooking up with guys you don’t know?” Mark stares at him, shocked enough by the question that he doesn’t even notice that Blake’s still not wearing a shirt. Well. Mostly. He’s still human, after all.

“I don’t—what?”

“I mean, it’s different if you pick up when we’re in the south or something,” Blake says, “but people know you here. If it gets out—“

“I _know,”_ Mark says sharply. “Do you think I’m an _idiot?_ I think about that all the time, but I can’t just live in _chastity_ for the rest of my career, Blake, come on.” Blake frowns at the shirt in his hands.

“That’s not what I meant,” Blake mutters, but he doesn’t elaborate, pulling his shirt on instead. Mark clenches his fists in frustration.

“I don’t hook up with guys in Winnipeg as often as you might think.” Mark tries to keep his voice even. “I’m not, like, whoring myself out to every guy I meet.” Blake takes a moment to reply, obviously stunned by Mark’s language.

“I didn’t—“

“Sure sounded like it,” Mark interrupts. “Don’t you trust me at _all?_ I know what I’m doing.” Blake looks like he wants to say something else, but Mark doesn’t give him the chance. “I know how to be smart about hooking up, okay? I’m not your rookie anymore.”

“I know.” Blake sounds resigned, and he looks almost _ashamed._ “I’m sorry.” Mark softens a little. Blake’s finished getting dressed, so Mark stands up and follows him out of the locker room.

“I just don’t understand what your problem is,” Mark says softly, because it’s not the first time Blake’s been weird about Mark’s hookups, like the time he left a bar early when the bartender started hitting on Mark. Mark hadn’t even slept with the guy, just made out with him in the bathroom, but _sue_ him. The bartender had been tall and broad with clear green eyes and Mark--Mark has a type, maybe.

Blake looks at him helplessly.

“You really don’t know?” he asks. Mark stops walking. Blake takes a couple more steps before he stops and turns back to look at Mark.

“No,” Mark says, “I really don’t.” His stomach twists. “I could make a couple guesses, though.” He’s never let himself think about what would happen if Blake--if he doesn’t like that Mark sleeps with guys sometimes, feels sick imagining it. Blake must see the thought on his face, because he looks worried.

“It’s not that,” Blake says, “I swear, never that.” That helps, a bit, but really not that much.

“Then what is it?” Mark demands. He’s starting to feel angry that Blake is being so weird and cryptic, not giving him any proper answers. “If it’s not the fact that it’s guys, is it--” _is it the fact that the guys all look like you,_ he almost says, but manages to cut that off before he ruins everything. He shuts his mouth so fast that his teeth click together audibly.

“Is it what?” Blake asks, taking a step towards Mark. He frowns at the way Mark’s face must be going pale. “What’s wrong?” He reaches out to set a hand on Mark’s shoulder in what’s probably meant to be a comforting gesture. Instead, it just makes Mark flinch back, bumping against the wall. Blake snatches his hand back, looking hurt. “Mark, are you--”

“Is it because every guy I hook up with looks like you?” Mark blurts. Blood rushes to his face and he sees Blake’s eyes go wide before he stares at the floor, wishing it would swallow him up. “I--sorry, I shouldn’t--I should go, I have to--” Mark tries to step past Blake, ready to run to the parking lot if he has to, but Blake catches his arm before he can leave. Mark freezes.

“You don’t have to go,” Blake says, and his voice is soft but his tone is firm. Mark looks up at his face again, uncertain. Blake lets go of his arm slowly, like he’s worried Mark will try to run away again. He presses his hand to the side of Mark’s neck, watching his face carefully. Something in him seems to settle. “The reason I was being weird is because I was jealous,” Blake says. Mark gapes at him, disbelieving. “I know I have no right to be, but--”

Blake doesn’t get to finish, because Mark grabs him by the front of the shirt and drags him down to kiss him. His beard is rough against Mark’s face, but his mouth is so soft when he kisses back. He presses Mark back against the wall, gently but decisively, like Mark would have to try if he wanted to get away.

He doesn’t, not anymore. In fact, he kind of wants to stay here forever, alone in the hallway with Blake pressed solid and warm along his front, kissing him fiercely. That’s probably not a good idea, though, so he breaks the kiss, keeping one hand on the back of Blake’s head so he doesn’t get any ideas about going anywhere.

“We, um.” He takes an unsteady breath, then looks up at Blake with a grin. “Want to continue this somewhere better? Like,” he drags his free hand down Blake’s front, stopping at the waistband of his jeans, “your place?” Blake kisses him once more, enough to make Mark’s knees go a little unsteady.

“I’m driving,” Blake says, and pulls back with _effort._ Mark takes a moment to feel smug about that before Blake drags him to his car. 

 

Mark behaves and keeps his hands to himself on the drive to Blake’s house, deciding that delayed gratification is probably better than having both of them die in a fiery wreck because he got a little impatient. 

The instant the door closes behind them, though, all thoughts of patience go out the window. Mark pretty much jumps on Blake, wrapping his arms around his shoulders to pull him as close as possible. Blake squeezes his hips in response, smiling into the kiss at the soft noise Mark makes.

They kiss like that, up against the wall just inside the door, until Mark starts to feel a desperate, grinding against the thigh Blake shoved between his legs. Then Blake stops kissing him.

“Wait, Mark, we should--we should talk about this,” he says, and Mark notes how raw his voice already sounds. He feels kind of proud, but shoves that down for a second. This is more important. “I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing,” Blake says.

“Me neither,” Mark says quickly, sliding his hand up into Blake’s hair to give him a reassuring scratch on the scalp. Blake shudders a little, but his eyes stay steady on Mark’s. “I want--” Mark doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, and he hesitates. “I want _you,”_ he settles on. “In any way I can have you.”

“You have me,” Blake says, his voice so honest, and Mark pulls him back in.

At some point, Blake starts tugging him deeper into the house, Mark not letting him break the kiss until they have to climb the stairs to Blake’s bedroom. Blake laughs softly at the way Mark frowns when he breaks the kiss at the bottom of the stairs. He flicks Mark’s ear, gentle.

“I want to keep kissing you, too,” Blake says, smiling, “but I also want to get you in my bed, and falling down the stairs wouldn’t really help anyone.” Mark pauses for a moment, taking the time to, like, process the words since his brain is kind of offline. Once he realizes what Blake means, he spins out of his arms and takes the stairs two at a time, laughing. “Hey!” Blake sounds a little outraged.

“Better hurry up,” Mark calls, already through the door of Blake’s bedroom and stripping off his shirt, “or I’m starting without you.” He can hear Blake swear softly, followed by the sound of footsteps. He’s just managed to kick off his pants, socks and underwear while crawling onto Blake’s bed in a demonstration of extreme agility when Blake gets into the room. He freezes in the doorway, staring at Mark. Mark squirms a little under his gaze, the way he seems to see _everything,_ his eyes hungry. “Blake--”

“You’re beautiful,” Blake interrupts, and Mark watches with fascination as Blake blushes, amazed enough at this new and delightful development that he manages not to blush again. Mark reaches out for him, and Blake goes. He crawls up the bed to settle between Mark’s legs, sitting back on his heels to take his shirt off. Blake rests his weight on his elbows, chest to chest with Mark.

Mark can feel every breath he takes. He reaches up to press a hand to Blake’s bare shoulder, stroking his thumb over the smooth skin there.

“Kiss me,” Mark says, barely a whisper, and Blake does.

They’d kissed for a long time already, but this feels different, slower, hotter. Deliberate. Mark moans softly into Blake’s mouth, rolling his hips up, trying to rub against _something._ He rocks against where Blake’s dick is still covered by his jeans, whining a little at the way it almost _hurts,_ but it feels to good to stop.

Until Blake stops, leaning back to peel off his jeans while Mark tries to catch his breath.

“Do you have lube,” Mark says, and Blake curses under his breath as his hands slip on his zipper.

“Yes,” Blake says, once he’s managed to get his jeans unzipped. 

“Good.” Mark meets his eyes, tilts his head in a challenging sort of way. “We don’t have to skate tomorrow, so. You should fuck me.” Blake stares at him. 

“Did you just--” 

“Special occasion,” Mark says drily. Blake finishes getting naked in record time, snatches a bottle of lube and a condom from a drawer in his bedside table before getting back between Mark’s legs. He wraps a dry hand around Mark’s cock and strokes him once, twice, making him gasp, then releases him to pick up the lube. Mark watches him slick his fingers, his mouth dry.

He jumps at the cold when Blake brings his fingers down to Mark’s hole, but spreads his legs wider. Blake circles his fingers, pressing _against_ but never _in,_ and Mark growls, frustrated.

“Please,” he says finally, “please, Blake, come on--” and he chokes on his words as Blake pushes his first finger in, slow and steady until it’s buried to the knuckle. Blake carefully slides his finger out almost all the way before he pushes it back in, right against Mark’s prostate.

The sound Mark makes at that would embarrass him if he had enough brainpower left to be embarrassed by things. It does seem to spur Blake into action as he makes it his mission to make Mark fall apart, working him steadily with his fingers. He has the same determined expression on his face as he does when he’s working on shooting, only his face isn’t flushed so much from working out as it is from arousal and their shared body heat.

When Mark is arching into the three fingers Blake has in him, Blake _stops._

“How do you want this?” Blake asks before Mark can start complaining. Mark is about to say _just like this,_ until he remembers what started the whole thing.

After all, he doesn’t have to skate tomorrow.

“Like this,” Mark says, and he rolls onto his side, tugging at Blake until he’s pressed up against Mark’s back. He’s got a great view of Mark’s hickey.

“Oh, you,” Blake says, and he sounds exasperated but affectionate at the same time. Blake presses his lips to the bruise, then his teeth. Mark gasps sharply, reaching back to get a hand in Blake’s hair. He can hear the sound of foil crinkling, the slick sounds of the lube as Blake gets ready, then the pressure at his hole as Blake presses in.

It doesn’t hurt--Blake made sure of that--but it’s a lot all at once, and Mark’s breaths start to speed up a little. He starts to relax when Blake’s hips are flush against him, Blake stroking the jut of his hip bone soothingly.

“There you go,” Blake says, pleased. He rocks his hips, wrenching a sound from Mark. Blake doesn’t stop moving, heat building in Mark’s belly. Mark writhes, shifting one leg so Blake has a better angle to fuck him, hard and deep.

The sounds that Blake’s making, quiet gasps and moans right against Mark’s ear, make Mark shiver, the fact that he’s having as much of an effect on Blake as Blake is on him. Mark rocks back against him, squeezing his muscles to make Blake’s movements stutter and his breath hitch.

Mark’s starting to feel like he could maybe come just like this, without a hand on him, but the way Blake’s thrusting into him fast and uneven makes him think that Blake won’t last long enough to get him there. Instead, he drops his head back against Blake’s shoulder, eyes falling shut.

“Blake,” he says, and his voice sounds floaty and far away, “I want to _come.”_ His voice breaks at the end, and Blake reaches around to jerk him off, a little too tight, but Mark is so close already that it doesn’t matter. It only takes a few strokes for him to come, biting his lip hard.

Behind him, Blake thrusts into him jerkily a few more times before he comes, digging his teeth into the hickey on Mark’s shoulder that’s probably more his than anyone else’s now. _Possessive,_ Mark thinks, shuddering as Blake pulls out.

He feels cold when Blake gets up and disappears into the bathroom, but a warm feeling spreads in his chest when he comes back with a damp washcloth to wipe Mark’s stomach clean. Blake just dumps the cloth onto Mark’s shirt.

“Hey,” Mark says, because, like, rude.

“Oh,” Blake says mildly, sliding into bed behind Mark. He pulls the blankets up and slides an arm across his waist. “I guess you’ll just have to wear one of mine.”

 _Definitely possessive,_ Mark decides, smiling as Blake presses a kiss to his hair.

He can’t bring himself to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked this first attempt at me writing this pairing! 
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](https://symphony7inamajor.tumblr.com)


End file.
